


don't read the last page (but I stay)

by silverstorms



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, New Year's Fluff, tw: moderate alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21958219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstorms/pseuds/silverstorms
Summary: In retrospect, it had been a terrible idea. Going to parties to avoid thinking about someone doesn't work so well when the someone is Jesper Fahey, Professional Partygoer, Gatecrasher,  and Havoc-Wreaker.And here he was: Jesper, glowing and already messy, glitter smeared across one cheek, half of his shirt buttons undone. He was such a disaster and just looking at him made Wylan’s stomach swoop, and Wylan hated it.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 14
Kudos: 205





	don't read the last page (but I stay)

**Author's Note:**

> A lightly angsty (with a happy ending)! New Year's Eve fic, brought to you 1/2 by "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift and 1/2 by "Too Much" by Carly Rae Jepsen. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Wylan thought he might be drunk.

He couldn’t be sure, however, as apart from a swallow of wine he’d snuck at a dinner party when he was about eight years old, Wylan had never had alcohol of any kind. Maybe it was an incredibly lame thing to admit, but he’d never really wanted to. That one swallow of wine had been pretty disgusting, and anyways, it wasn’t like Wylan had been invited to a lot of parties in high school, or had anyone who would ever want to get drunk with him.

But he wasn’t going to think about that, because high school was over, and because he didn’t want to think about it… and because alcohol! Alcohol made it really, really easy not to think about things, or at least to think of them in a way that made them seem really, really funny instead of, well, sad.

Besides, that was all in the past now. This wasn't high school, this was college, and college was entirely different. At college, there was Nina, who was in his French course and invited him to eat brunch with her and her roommate Inej, and Kaz, who was terrifying but talked to Wylan like he was almost as smart as Kaz himself, and Jesper, who, well--

Anyways! Alcohol!

Wylan was almost positive now that he was drunk, but it wasn't at all like he'd expected it to be. He wasn't really feeling the urge to get up and dance on a table, for starters, and the overall feeling was just different from what he'd expected-- less of a spinning and more of a floating sensation, like he was a buoy bobbing along in a sea of pop music and girls in glittery eyeliner and people slapping cups off of a table in the corner. It was weird, but he liked it.

“Fifteen minutes!” a girl shouted, and a cheer ran up through the crowd. Wylan turned in a slow circle; he wanted to find Nina before midnight and tell her that he loved her. And Inej! He loved Inej too. He might even love his cranky roommate, Kuwei. Nina said that Wylan had a lot of love to give. She also said he shouldn't be bothered with people who didn't want it.

He'd been trying to take her advice. He'd been trying to get out of his own skin, to become the kind of person who partied their cares away.

In retrospect, it had been a terrible idea. Going to parties to avoid thinking about someone doesn't work so well when the someone is Jesper Fahey, Professional Partygoer, Gatecrasher, and Havoc-Wreaker.

And sure enough, just when Wylan was beginning to think this whole thing was going to be successful, here was Jesper to bring it crashing down, weaving his way through the crowd, high-fiving everyone, greeted by shouts of “Fahey!”

Wylan turned away and begin to move in the opposite direction as quickly as he could, suddenly finding that the world was a bit more tilted than it had been just a few moments earlier, and the warmth of so many bodies a little more oppressive. Stumbling, he made his way through the kitchen and out the back door.

The music became muffled as the door swung shut behind him, and the freezing almost-January air shocked him back into reality. He felt, suddenly, so stupid. Stupid to come here, to get drunk, to imagine that he could shake things off the way other people did. All the happiness drained out of him all at once, and he felt a deep, aching sadness that brought tears to his eyes.

He heard the door behind him swing open and automatically moved out of the way, expecting a stoner or someone who was about to throw up in the bushes. Instead, a familiar voice said “Hey.”

Wylan closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, brushing the back of his hand across his eyes before turning around.

And here he was: Jesper Fahey, glowing and already messy, glitter smeared across one cheek, half of his shirt buttons undone. He was such a disaster and just looking at him made Wylan’s stomach swoop, and Wylan hated it.

He didn't want the sight of Jesper to make him melt. He wanted to be strong. Icy, aloof, oh-so-uninterested strong. Impenetrable. Totally not distracted by that dumb patch of glitter on Jesper’s face.

“I wasn't expecting to see you here,” said Jesper, grinning as he stepped towards him. “I'm a little offended that Nina got you out to a party before I did.”

“You never asked,” said Wylan, blunter than he usually was, and without a trace of the smile Jesper usually brought out in him. Being drunk, he was finding, was fun until it wasn't.

Jesper’s electric happiness faltered a little, his smile slipping. “Everything okay?”

Wylan shook his head, and then kept shaking it: no, no, no, but I don't want to talk about it.

“It's almost midnight,” he said. “You should go inside. Find someone to bring in the New Year with, or whatever.”

Jesper caught Wylan’s sleeve as he tried to turn away. “What if I already did?”

This was the problem, Wylan thought, the whole problem of Jesper Fahey condensed into this one single interaction: it was impossible to tell how much something meant to him. For months after they'd first met, Wylan had lived in the agony of not knowing whether Jesper was flirting with him or if he was just flirting the way he did with everyone.

Then there had been that night, the two of them playing Monopoly in the dorm hallway, still battling it out long after everyone else had given up and gone to bed, when Wylan had finally gotten sick of Jesper’s ability to tease a blush out of him and had kissed him just to get him to shut up for a minute, leaning across the Monopoly board to grab Jesper’s shirt, fake money sliding everywhere.

Wylan could still feel that kiss zinging through him. He remembered with perfect clarity the way Jesper had responded instantly, bringing a hand up to cup Wylan’s neck without a second of hesitation. It was that touch that had wrecked him, Wylan saw in retrospect, that very first kiss, that moment when it seemed that Jesper had been waiting for it to happen, wanting it, as much as Wylan had.

But months had come and gone since then, and that stupid, hopeful part of Wylan-- the stupid, hopeful part that was pretty much his entire personality, actually-- had persisted in hoping that his _thing_ with Jesper was more than just a _thing_.

He'd known from the beginning that it was stupid. Jesper had never made any mention of the word dating. They'd never talked about feelings or definitions, and Wylan never imagined for a moment that he was the only person Jesper was interested in, when everyone was interested in Jesper.

But the problem was that Jesper Fahey was not a person who could be dated casually, at least not if you were Wylan van Eck. Wylan had tried. He’d tried so hard. But Jesper was unlike anybody he'd ever met, so bright and ridiculous and energetic, that it was impossible not to want to be around him, impossible to avoid getting attached.

Or it had been, at first. But now it just hurt. Jesper’s habit of finding Wylan after his English class and dragging him behind the building to kiss him didn't spin Wylan into daydreams about the two of them using the word _boyfriend_ and going on dates; it just reminded him how much homework he had and how much time he was spending around someone who didn't really want him.

“Wylan,” said Jesper, when the silence stretched on too long too. “Are you okay?”

“I'm drunk,” said Wylan, finding that he suddenly had the urge to sit down and giving into it despite the fact that there was snow on the ground. He tilted his head back, staring up at Jesper. “And I'm sad. And I'm tired of being the person you kiss when you're bored with everyone else.”

Jesper was looking at him, but alcohol had shriveled Wylan’s ability to read people’s expressions, and he just wanted to be at home, in bed, where he wouldn't have to think about any of this.

“I'm going to get Inej,” said Jesper, after a long pause. “I think you need to go home.”

“No, no, no,” said Wylan, shaking his head and dragging himself to his feet. “Kaz is here. With her. He almost looked happy.” He drew in a deep breath of icy air. “I can walk back to the dorm. Don't bother them.”

“Wylan, you're plastered,” said Jesper, shaking his head. “I'll walk you back.”

“But I don't want you to,” said Wylan. He tried to take a few steps towards the door and discovered that walking was harder than it should have been. When he stumbled, Jesper was right there, catching him.

“You don't have to,” Wylan insisted, even as Jesper wrapped an arm around him and began to walk him around the house, through the snowy yard and towards the street. “I just broke up with you… except not really, if we're not dating. What do you call a breakup when you're not dating? Hey, look. Stars.” He came to an abrupt stop, tilting his head backwards to look up, and Jesper tightened his grip around Wylan’s waist to stop them from falling over.

“Yeah,” said Jesper, and his voice was quieter, more subdued, than Wylan had ever heard it. “Look.”

“Everything looks different,” said Wylan. “Maybe it's because it's the new year. Almost”

“Maybe you’ve been drinking enough for a whole bachelorette party.”

“I just had wine,” said Wylan, slightly whiny. He was walking with his head tilted back, gazing up at the sky, watching his breath cloud in the air.

Jesper laughed. “Okay, lightweight.”

“I'm a lightweight of everything,” said Wylan, with the matter-of-fact but bizarre logic of drunkenness. “I'm a lightweight of life.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning I kiss somebody one time and I think it has to mean something,” said Wylan. “And when things go wrong it triggers an existential crisis. I don't know how to be chill. Maybe that should be my New Years’ Resolution. _Be more chill._ Nina would love that.”

They were at Wylan’s building now, and even with the bleariness of alcohol clouding his head, Wylan was brutally aware that this walk was ending, and of all the things that were ending with it. He fell silent as they made their way into the building, up the stairs-- Jesper was practically carrying him at that point-- and then, finally, to Wylan’s room. One of his neighbors at the end of the hall was having a party; Wylan could hear the thump of the music, the joyful shouts.

Jesper released him gently, and Wylan steadied himself by leaning against the doorway. He wanted to look at Jesper one more time, really look at him, and now, with the alcohol making him shameless, was his chance. He knew, of course, that he was going to see Jesper again: pretty much all of Wylan’s friends were Jesper’s friends, too, and anyways, it wasn’t a big campus. But Wylan knew that in the future, any conversation social necessity forced him to have with Jesper would be stunted and awkward and horrible in a dozen different ways. This was the last time they would ever come close to resembling the version of them that had existed in Wylan’s head for so long, the version in which they drank coffee together in the mornings and stole each other’s sweaters. Wylan laughed aloud at that thought; he couldn’t help himself.

“What?” said Jesper, frowning at him.

“I’m so embarrassing,” said Wylan, shaking his head. “I’m so embarrassing! This is going to be embarrassing in the morning. I can tell.”

Jesper was laughing, and if he was laughing because Wylan was an idiot, well, Wylan didn’t care, because making Jesper laugh had always made Wylan feel as though his heart was not properly rooted in his chest.

Then Jesper fell silent, and in the quiet, Wylan could hear his neighbors down the hall shouting above the thump of the music: “TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”

Wylan looked at Jesper and wanted so badly, so badly, to kiss him. Just once. Just one last time. It was unfathomable that he’d already kissed Jesper for the last time and not, in that moment, fully appreciated it.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”

He shouldn’t. He knew, on some level, that he shouldn’t. But that level was buried under the alcohol and the New Year’s Eve craze and the finality of it all and the fact that Jesper was looking at him.

“FOUR! THREE! TWO!”

In the split second between the old year and the new, Wylan leaned in and kissed Jesper right on the patch of gold sparkles on his cheek.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

For one brief moment, Wylan steadied himself against Jesper’s shoulders, and then he stepped back.

“Happy New Year, Jesper,” said Wylan, catching himself on the doorknob, heart racing. He felt compelled to say something, to soften this blow, though he doubted it was hitting Jesper with the same intensity, or even hitting him at all.

Still. “I hope you have a really good year,” he told Jesper, and he found that he meant it. He turned towards his door, fumbling in his pocket for the key. When he got it unlocked, Jesper said “Wylan?”

Wylan turned back. “Yeah?”

Jesper-- Jesper Fahey, nonstop force of spontaneity-- _hesitated_. Then he said “Drink some water. And eat something, if you can. Wine’s not that bad but if you’re dehydrated you’ll feel like shit in the morning.”

There wasn’t really anything more to say to this, so Wylan nodded once, quickly, and then stepped into his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

And he was alone. Alone, at last, in the cool dark silence of his room-- he had no idea where his roommate Kuwei had gotten to and was too fuzzy brained and exhausted to think about it too hard-- with nothing to distract him from the sadness that was slowly, gradually, sinking into every part of him.

Wylan grabbed a water bottle off of his dresser and took a long sip before setting it down next to his bed. Then, without bothering to change into pajamas, he slipped under the covers and hid his face against the cool fabric of his pillow.

Crying felt less like an emotional reaction and more like an automatic bodily response. Even as the tears started, Wylan was already drifting off. His last tangible thought was of a patch of gold glitter, the vague sense of having stars in his mouth.

XxX

He remembered the drinking the moment he opened his eyes. There was no peaceful moment of obliviousness, no alcohol daze blurring his memories. He opened his eyes and thought immediately, with perfect clarity, _I got drunk and told Jesper Fahey I didn’t want to make out with him anymore because I’m an overly emotional idiot who got too attached to him._

Lovely. Just brilliant. Exactly how Wylan had wanted to start out the New Year.

With a groan, he sat up and raked his fingers through his knotted, curly hair. Based off of his limited alcohol-related experience-- in other words, based off of movies and absolutely nothing else-- Wylan had sort of been expecting to wake up to an absolutely terrible hangover, but the truth was that he didn’t feel all that awful, just worn out and a little bleary.

Far, far worse than any alcoholic aftereffects was the realization that what had woken him up was a knocking at the door. He was incredibly tempted to pretend that he was still asleep, but he figured he ought to get up and see if Kuwei was locked out of the room or something, so he dragged himself out of bed.

When he opened the door, however, the person standing before him was not his irritable, moody, roommate. It was Jesper Fahey, and somehow this was both shocking and incredibly predictable. Of course, the one person Wylan most and least wanted to see was standing outside his door, two coffee cups balanced on a carrying tray in one hand, at nine in the morning on New Year’s Day. Of course, he still had glitter on his face. Of course! This was Wylan’s life. Why wouldn’t it be as ridiculous and embarrassing as possible?

“Hi?” he said, the word coming out like a question, because really-- what the hell was he doing here?”

“Hey,” said Jesper, shifting the drink tray from one hand to the other and tapping his fingers against his jeans. “Is it okay if I come in for a minute?”

Silently, Wylan stepped back, holding the door open to let Jesper into the room. He almost wished that he could leave it propped open somehow. Maybe he was being ridiculous, but there was something unbearable about the thought of awkwardly standing across from Jesper in a room where Wylan had woken up in bed next to him three weeks earlier. They’d rarely spent time together in Wylan’s room-- Kuwei’s presence being a powerful deterrent-- but Kuwei had been pulling an all-nighter at the library to work on a chemistry project that night, and Jesper and Kaz had been fighting about something or other, so Jesper had taken refuge in Wylan’s room and wound up falling asleep there.

When Wylan had woken in the early hours of that morning, Jesper had been wrapped around him, his face pressed into the back of Wylan’s neck, he’d felt as though his whole heart was cracking open. It had felt like the start of something, like they were finally, finally stumbling their way into something real.

But it hadn’t been. And they weren’t. And now they weren’t anything at all.

Except for some reason, Jesper was bringing him coffee.

“Here,” said Jesper, handing over a cup. “I thought you might need this. You know, after last night.”

Wylan wasn’t sure if Jesper meant “I thought you might need coffee to help you cope with the emotional aftershock of how fucking embarrassed you are” or “I thought you might need coffee because you drank a lot of wine last night.” Either one was entirely plausible.  
He took the cup, took a sip, and almost dropped it. “Fuck, that’s hot.” His tongue was definitely burned, and he was probably going to be unable to taste anything for the next week, but he was almost certain that Jesper had brought him a caramel mocha.

Last year’s Wylan would have been convinced that this drink selection carried some deep and powerful connotation. This year’s Wylan knew better. Or at least was trying to convince himself that he knew better.

“Shit, sorry,” said Jesper. “Matthias was working at the cafe this morning, he probably oversteamed it on purpose.” Jesper was still convinced that Nina’s boyfriend had a personal vendetta against him, and refused to listen to anyone’s explanation that Matthias actually just had a personal vendetta against everyone except for Nina.

Talking about Matthias offered a golden opportunity for Wylan to avoid-- or, at the very least, postpone-- the awkwardness of this conversation, but he was determined not to give into the temptation.

“Jesper,” said Wylan, setting the cup down on his bedside table and immediately wishing he hadn’t. Now he had nothing to do with his hands. “Why are you here?”

Jesper’s hands were in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, but Wylan could see the twisting of his fingers, and realized he was playing with the pair of dice he liked to carry around and fidget with whenever he needed to burn off energy.

“Well,” he said, with a shrug, “I know you never really drink, and you were kind of wasted last night, so I--”

“Jesper,” said Wylan, his own voice coming out far sterner than he’d even known was possible. “You can’t do this.”

Jesper’s shoulders sagged a little, but his voice remained steadfastly bright and unconcerned. “Do what?”

“Anything,” said Wylan, knotting his fingers through his own hair and tugging. He was supposed to be done dealing with this. “Jesper-- I meant what I said last night. I can’t do this anymore. Any of it. You can’t do anything involving me because I need-- I need space.”

He realized he’d raised his voice slightly and tried to compensate by taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest, aiming for a calmer, less depraved appearance.

Jesper met Wylan’s eyes. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you want to do this anymore?” said Jesper, gesturing between them with a hand still curled around a set of dice.

Wylan stared at him. He thought he’d made this pretty clear the night before, but maybe Jesper himself had been too drunk to remember the particulars of that conversation. If that was the case, here was a chance for him to do it over in a less embarrassing, messy way. But instead, he found himself saying, with all the incredulity he was feeling, “Because it _hurts_.”

Whatever answer Jesper had been expecting-- and Wylan genuinely had no idea what that might be-- it clearly wasn’t this. His startled expression told Jesper that much.

“Look,” said Wylan, inhaling sharply and trying to keep his voice even, “I know that it’s stupid, okay? I know this was just supposed to be a-- a casual thing, or whatever. But… I like you a lot more than that.” He bit his lower lip. “A lot more. And I can’t keep doing this thing with you and acting like it’s not-- like I’m not-- like I don’t like you more than you like me.” Wylan’s cheeks felt warm, but he thought that if Nina had heard this conversation, she would be proud of him for saying what he meant, what he felt.

Jesper was staring at him. “You think I don’t like you?”

“No,” said Wylan, resisting the urge to grind his teeth. Did Jesper have to be so stubborn? So infuriatingly obtuse? “I know that you like me.”

“So then why--”

“Jesper, please don’t make this worse for me than it already is,” said Wylan, closing his eyes.

“But--”

“Jesus.” He left his eyes closed. Things were easier that way. “Jesper. You like me. Maybe you even like me more than most of the other people you have _things_ with. I have no idea because I try not to think about it and I try not think about it because you’ve already kind of ruined my life and I am trying to at least be functional. Okay? I never wanted a casual no-strings-attached millennial friends-with-benefits relationship or whatever the fuck. I wanted-- I wanted to mean something to you. You mean a lot to me. Meant. And if I’m ever going to get over you I need to not be around you, because otherwise I’m going to spend the entirety of college pining for someone who’s not that into me.”  
“Wow,” said Jesper. “You are seriously delusional.”

Wylan opened his eyes. Jesper was standing much closer to him than he had been before, and he was looking at Wylan with bemusement and a gentleness that made Wylan feel raw.

“Thanks,” Wylan said quietly. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.”

Jesper shook his head. “Wylan. You’re so smart, it's incredible that you can actually be this dumb sometimes.”

Wylan sighed. He should have known that Jesper wasn't going to make this easy for him, but this level of persistent, feigned obliviousness was just irritating. “Jesper--”

“Wylan, just listen to me,” said Jesper. “I know I'm probably a shitty boyfriend--”

“ _Boyfriend_?” said Wylan, staring at him. “What? You’re-- you’re not--”

“Well, it's not for a lack of trying!” said Jesper, his voice rising a little, and although he didn't have Wylan’s own telltale blush, Wylan knew him well enough to tell that he was embarrassed. “For fuck’s sake, Wylan, I've been showing up after your least favorite class to distract you from how much you hate it, and not inviting you to parties because I know drinking freaks you out, and-- and I made up some story about fighting with Kaz so it was easy for you to invite me over here because I knew you’d be too nervous otherwise, and I listen to your favorite bands and know which t-shirt you wear when you’re sad-- and it's like you think I don't care about you at all.”

Wylan felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. A silence fell as he and Jesper stared each other down, both a little wild-eyed, unsure of what was supposed to happen next.

“But you never-- you never said any of that,” said Wylan, bewildered. “You never…”

Jesper raked his fingers through his hair. “I thought we were taking it slow! I was trying not to freak you out!”

Wylan blinked at him, and Jesper saw-- and Wylan saw him see-- that Wylan didn't fully believe him.

“Fine,” said Jesper, shaking his head and shoving his hands back into his sweatshirt pocket. “Whatever. I'll go. But Wylan, if you think I'm the one who's bad at showing what I’m feeling, you're seriously living in some kind of alternate universe.”

Without another word, he stepped out Wylan’s door and slammed it shut behind him.

Wylan stood in front of his bed and stared at the door. His heart was racing. He thought of all these months, all this time he'd spent trying not to get attached to Jesper, all the times he'd shied away from Jesper’s casual touches, determined to remind himself that Jesper was like that with all of his friends.

He thought of Jesper showing up after every single English class, kissing Wylan until he could no longer remember the name of the reading he'd failed to complete or the quiz on it he'd just bombed. He thought of Jesper showing up in his room the night Kuwei was out with a bottle of sparkling apple cider and a complete set of Harry Potter DVDs. He thought of Jesper’s openhearted devotion to Inej, Nina, and Kaz-- the people he loved. He thought of Jesper in his bed, Jesper passing him an earbud to listen to a song, Jesper brushing his hair out of his eyes, Jesper walking him home.

God, he’s an idiot.

When Wylan first burst out of his dorm room, he thought that he was too late, that Jesper had already left the building. Then he spotted him, down at the end of the hall, pacing back and forth and muttering to himself.

“Jes,” he called out, and as Jesper turned towards him, Wylan caught up to him in a few quick strides.

Since their first kiss months before, Wylan had rarely been the one to reach for Jesper first, to initiate things. When Jesper called him beautiful, he’d laughed it off. When they woke up in bed together, Wylan was always the first to get dressed. He never texted first, never asked Jesper to come over, never reached for his hand under the table.

“Wylan?” said Jesper, his voice uncertain, hopeful, and it was that voice that cracked Wylan completely. Without another word, he stood up on his tiptoes and pulled Jesper towards him. When he kissed him, he kissed him the way he’d always wanted to, slower and deeper than he’d ever let himself, fingertips stroking Jesper’s cheek, his free arm wrapping around Jesper’s waist to hold them both steady and to pull Jesper as close to him as he possibly could. He kissed him like it was the first and last time they ever would and he wanted to make it count.

When they finally broke apart, he found one of Jesper’s hands and tangled their fingers together, pressing both their hands flat against Jesper’s chest, and looked up.

“I’m an idiot,” he said, breathing hard. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, like his feet had torn up pavement to get him to this moment.

Jesper squeezed his hand twice, fiercely, affectionately. “You’re not.”

“I don’t really have a problem with parties, I’d just never been drunk before last night. I was so happy when I saw my music on your Spotify, I couldn’t stop smiling for days. And… I didn’t realize you knew how much I hated English”

“Wylan, every time you walk by the English department, you glare at the buildings.”

Wylan tried to respond to this by glaring at Jesper, but it was hard to even pretend to be angry with Jesper when he was smiling like that.

“Keep talking,” said Jesper, hooking two fingers through the front of Wylan’s shirt.

Wylan inhaled. “I’m constantly trying to find ways to make you laugh. I fall asleep thinking about you. I daydream about stealing your sweatshirts. I’m so-- I like you so much it’s embarrassing.” Jesper was smiling, and only that gave Wylan the courage to keep going. “I’m sorry I suck at saying it. And showing it. But, um… I think I could get better at that. If I tried. If you’re interested.”

Jesper leaned forward, bringing his whole self closer to Wylan. “Does this mean you’re going to practice telling me how much you like me?”

“Yeah,” said Wylan. He felt like he might overflow with happiness. “And I’ll practice distracting you from your homework, and practice telling you you’re really fucking cute, and practice kissing you--”

“Oh, in that case,” said Jesper. “We’d better get started.” He kissed Wylan again, their smiles tangling together. Then Jesper pulled back, his forehead bumping against Wylan’s.

“Did you really think I didn’t like you?” he whispered.

Wylan couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m just… not used to it.”

Jesper wrapped his arms around Wylan, hugging him more tightly than Wylan could remember being hugged in his life, pressing his face into the top of Wylan’s head. “Well, get used to it. Make it your New Year’s Resolution. _I will remember that people love me._ ”

He was in Jesper’s arms, and he was meeting Nina and Inej for brunch in a few hours, and his old life had never been further away, and it was a new year.

“Yeah,” he said, looking up at Jesper, feeling all the lights turn on inside of him, knowing this would be the best year of his life thus far. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”


End file.
